


to taste the same thing in the same moment.

by constanted



Series: fjorclay week 2020! [6]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bread Crusts, Canon Compliant, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, fjorclay week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constanted/pseuds/constanted
Summary: “Nah, but--you are easily the best roommate I’ve ever had. None of them cooked for me. Except--I roomed with a cook once. On a ship. But, er, he didn’t cook for me personally.”“Well, I’m happy to--I’ve never cooked for any of my other roommates.”"Was that a joke?”(or: five times Caduceus made food for Fjord, and one time Fjord made food for Caduceus.)
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Series: fjorclay week 2020! [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704592
Comments: 27
Kudos: 175





	to taste the same thing in the same moment.

**Author's Note:**

> it's like "i love you i want us both to eat well" "i love you i'm glad i exist" " who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?”

**i. lemongrass soup**

“You don’t need to cook when it’s just the two of us,” Fjord says, in that voice that Caduceus didn’t think would be so easy to get used to, “I can fend for myself.”

“Well, maybe I _like_ cooking for people,” Caduceus smiles, sets the bowl down in front of Fjord. Jester and he had painted little custom bowls for everyone, those first few weeks in the Xhorhaus, and this one has little waves on it. An ocean scene, by the sunset. The image of the lighthouse from Nicodranis standing proud. He remembers working on this one. Jester had helped him with the highlights, because she’s more used to proper paint than he is, but he’s rather proud of his work. He looks down at his bowl--wildflowers and then a dark and clouded sky. Jester’s work, clearly. For--

Oh, no.

He realizes he’s been too quiet, so he says, “And maybe we can call this a little. Celebration. For your new path.”

“Thank you,” Fjord says, shakes his head a little bit. “Been a long few weeks, I’ll take a celebration.”

“I think Beau has some wine in her closet, if you’d like to drink.”

“I’m alright for now. And I looked for something in Beau’s closet… once? And I think I’m still having nightmares.”

“Yeah, it’s a little bit horrifying. Jester’s closet is worse, believe it or not.” Because sometimes those two ask him to help them out with personal projects, and he is very good at helping--Beau needed her pants hemmed, Jester was preparing a fancy house for Sprinkle and needed decorations--needless to say, Caduceus has never been the tidiest person, but those two make him look good.

“I--I believe it. Back in our… first week adventuring, just the three of us, we split one room.”

Caduceus feels his heart genuinely start to beat faster at the prospect. “My goddess.”

“Never again. Rooming with you was--frankly, considering every roommate situation I’ve had in my life-- _holy fuck this is good soup_ \--”

“Can’t make that when you’re fending for yourself.”

“Nah, but--you are _easily_ the best roommate I’ve ever had. None of _them_ cooked for me. Except--I roomed with a cook once. On a ship. But, er, he didn’t cook for _me_ personally.”

“Well, I’m happy to--I’ve never cooked for any of my other roommates.”

Fjord pauses, thinks on it a moment, and then beams, tusks showing, and they really have grown in--Caduceus thinks they’ve grown with the rest of him, that Melora may have given a gift of sorts there, too. He points at Caduceus, “Was that a joke?”

“It was,” Caduceus smiles, proud of himself, feels his face warm up as Fjord snorts. “Though--I--I mean, I shared a room with my siblings and I did a lot of cooking for them once my dad left.”

“Still--you’re getting better at the whole--jokes thing.”

Part of him wants to say, _I used to be_ really good _at jokes_ , but that ruins the energy of the conversation, maybe, even if it’s true, which it is. He doesn’t like to think about this sort of thing, but it is kind of sad that his wilder side has kind of… atrophied. Obviously, he doesn’t say any of that. Instead: “Are the spices too much?”

“No, it’s fucking _great_ , Duc--Caduceus, this is amazing, seriously.”

“To new paths,” Caduceus holds up a soup spoon.

“Not how cheers works, but. To new paths.”

**ii. mushroom & moss sandwich**

“I used to hate eating crusts.”

Caduceus is, entirely reasonably, in his opinion, aghast. “That’s the _best_ part--”

“What... the fuck is wrong with you?” Caleb asks, not looking up from his book. Caduceus is _pretty_ sure that it’s a smut book, because he keeps deliberately hiding the cover from both of them. “The--best part?”

“I like every part of bread equally, I don’t pick favorites, but--I like the crust as much as the rest. I’m not--is this a weird opinion?”

“Crusts are--they are chicken feed,” Caleb mutters, “Regardless. Save my sandwich for after the fish and chips, I do not quite trust our, ah, dear reptile navigator friend to keep our friends awake or, ah, full-stomached for the duration of being tattooed.”

And he returns to his book.

“You want me to cut the crusts off for you?” Caduceus asks, can’t resist, “Used to do that for my little sister.”

“I’ll--I know that you baked this bread, so I’ll eat it, because I like the things that you make.” 

“Flattery’ll only get you so far,” Caduceus elbows him, “But I do respect the effort. And I accept the flattery. Because I’m proud of this bread. The starter’s from that bakery in Rosohna that makes the Wildlands-style pastries. Also, I didn’t know that the Wildlands had specific pastries, and this starter is _not_ like the starters we made when I was young, so. Who knew?”

“You have bony elbows.” Fjord mumbles, rubs the part of his ribs Caduceus hit. “Like daggers. Gods.”

“That’s what… that’s what crust does. It... sharpens your bones. And I’m a healer, so--I know thee things. I know how medicine works.”

“So, then, I have to ask, since you’re so pro-crust--did you eat the crusts? That you cut off your sister’s bread?”

“Maybe I did. It’s where _all_ the nutrients are.”

“All of them? Not just bone-sharpeners?”

“...I think.”

Caleb groans into his book.

Fjord continues, “I’m gonna--I’m gonna--” a bite of the sandwich, crust and all, and with his mouth full: “Okay, this isn’t fair, because everything you make is amazing. Are these seeds?”

“Yeah, Reani gave them to me.”

Fjord pauses. Stares. “Are they poisonous?”

“No.” Fjord nods, still nervous. Reasonably so. There was a lot of mention of poison, in Reani’s kitchen, and a few containers clearly labelled _poison_ and surrounded by little drawings of flowers. Caduceus appreciates her commitment to her own aesthetics, but, well. It’s a little frightening. “I checked.”

“Good, because they add a lot of--texture? It’s really nice--Caleb, you should try this--”

“No.”

“I thought they might, yeah. And there’s a little bit of flavor, too, yeah? Makes it a little nuttier.”

“ _Yeah!_ ”

**iii. candied pears**

“How did you even make this? I thought they wouldn’t let you into the kitchens.”

Caduceus spins his new favorite thing in a circle. “I’m not pro-threatening innocent people. Don’t—don’t assume otherwise. But I made an offer that that lovely dwarven women who runs this place couldn’t refuse, So I have to, um. practice outdoors, now. Whenever I practice. Which is a little bit unfortunate, but. Try this. I’m gonna make more for later.”

He places the spoon in front of Fjord’s mouth, and Fjord eats it, closes his eyes and hums. “Sweeter than normal for you.”

“I burned myself a few times making them, too. Lots of risks, for this. But they’re good, right?”

“Extremely. I’m sometimes—cinnamon’s a bit too much for me, but this is the perfect—how do you even do that. Also. Burns?”

“Yeah, just—hands—“ and Fjord takes the hands, examine them. It’s just minor burns, they barely hurt. They might scar over, but it’s nothing serious. Especially considered to the…

Well, Beau very politely called it an ass-kicking. The ass-kicking Fjord received last night.

“I got something I can do about that,” Fjord says, “Brand new. I was gonna do some dope paladin shit last night, but, well—I—was bested in the luck department. So I’m going to do some paladin shit now.”

“You don’t need to.”

“My plan for today is to go to the spa. I don’t need magic. And you’re paying me with a fucking delightful breakfast, as well as this lovely symbol you gave me the other night—“

“You don’t need to repay me for the symbol. Or the food. You don’t owe me anything—“

“How about for all you’ve healed me?”

“I—that’s not… that’s me repaying—whatever. Just—here. Try and heal me, paladin.” And Fjord recites a quiet little prayer in Orcish, which sounds so cool, and Caduceus sounds seal up with the sudden sensation of seafoam. “Interesting,” Caduceus offers. “Thank you.”

“If you need to repay me, I won’t turn down more pears.”

“I also have this cream thing to go with it, it’s really—here—“

And he places it all in a little glass. Makes one for himself as well. Fjord raises his glass, says, “To dope paladin shit.”

“To, uh, dope paladin things.” Caduceus raises his as well. “The—the symbol looks very nice on you. I was worried you wouldn’t like it or that it wouldn’t—“

“I love it. Don’t be… don’t get nervous about that sort of thing. Did you design it?”

“Yeah, but, uh. Dusts made it, and they definitely cleaned it up a bit. My version was a little bit more… all over the place.”

“I’m sure it was good. You’re very—good with, er. Fashion. And the like. Is that a cleric thing?”

“I don’t… I don’t think so? Most clerics I’ve met have been a little less, um. Flamboyant. Than Jester and myself. But that’s alright. I—thank you. Now—okay, so you said that, uh, with the cinnamon, that was the right amount?”

**vi. stale cookies**

“You’re going to be terribly hungover. You should sleep.”

“Yeah, but. I’m very hungry. Do you want some?”

Fjord waits a second, “Ah, sure, just—are these the ones with—?”

“No, nothing—I’m not gonna mix that many substances. Maybe another time. Without alcohol. But. Try. Fjord—they’re not good, but. They’re edible.”

Fjord is giving him a Look. It’s concerned, more than anything. Maybe pitying? He doesn’t want pitying. Especially not from Fjord, that’s too much; that’s desperate and sad of him. Fjord takes one of the cookies.

“Not your best work, but still damn good.”

“Your hair looks so soft.”

Fjord blinks, kind of amused. “You can touch it, if you’d like.” Caduceus does that, and it’s really soft. Like silk, kind of.

“It’s getting so long now, too; it suits you.”

“I think it’s still the, uh, shortest in the group by a longshot.”

“Still looks nice. Suits your face.”

“Your hair also suits your face?” Fjord laughs. “Give me another cookie?”

Caduceus does that. Looks at Fjord’s face more. Because it’s just a very good face in general. To look at. “Stupid that Nott said we’re—no. Ew.”

“Yeah, she’s just—I dunno. I don’t think we’re anywhere close to brothers. Not that I have the experience you have, but, er—“

“I would never tell my brother that his hair looks so soft. You’re—no. Ew. I care very much about you but not in the same way I cared about my brother. I cared about my brother in the same way… in the same way Nott cares about you. You know?”

“And how do you care about me?”

“Mmmm. Not at all like that. Don’t have the word for it.”

“Neither do I. But we know what it’s not.”

“What it’s Nott—“ and Caduceus can’t even finish the sound before bursting into loud laughter. Groggily, Beau tells them to shut the fuck up. So Caduceus drops to a whisper, and says, “Should I start calling out spell names when I use them?”

“If you’d like. I don’t think yelling Cure Wounds! is gonna do for your ability to avoid being, er, targeted, though—“

“But if I called out, like, _Harm_ —that’s a spell I know, now—or _Blight_ —which I don’t use often because blights are never good and why would you want to inflict one on somebody, even if—even if they’re doing terrible things—those words are threatening. I think. They're threatening. Do you think they're--Fjord, do you--”

“Those words are more threatening, yeah. You don’t like to use some of your spells?”

“I mean,” he hiccups, “S’like, I don’t like, you know… repeating the harm that’s been done,” another hiccup, “To me? With Blight specifically, I don’t, um, I don’t want to… I’ve used it before. It’s—easy to hurt people with. But. You know how it is.”

“I suppose so. But I don’t think the Wildmother would give you that sort of magic if She didn’t trust you with it.”

Fjord takes another cookie. Caduceus fixates on a crumb in his hand.

“And also,” Fjord says, mouth full, “You just yelling _blight_! on the battlefield _would_ be rather frightening.” He pauses a moment, chews some more. “Alright. That’s the last one. To bed with you.”

**v. fried roots**

Beau is, apparently, not giving up on workouts, which means that Caduceus’ scheduled alone time before an absolutely terrifying day of reunions and steering people away from each other is interrupted by both a hungover Beau’s attempt at motivational speaking and the sight of Fjord’s back muscles, which, really, is terribly unfair.

Not that he’s looking at Fjord’s back muscles, or anything.

They take a break and seem to spot him—whatever luck had blessed him with stealth last night has vanished, apparently, and Beau says, “Whatcha frying?” and he says, “What I could find that wouldn’t be missed.” And Fjord says, “You don’t have to be so ominous every time.” And Caduceus says, “I’m just going to be getting increasingly morbid all day,” and Beau grins and Fjord laughs a little nervously.

“Your sister’s hot,” Beau says.

“She the one whose crusts you cut off?” Fjord asks.

Caduceus rolls his eyes. “No. That’s, um. That’s Bell. I’m gonna get her back once I’m done eating.”

“I’m gonna run another five laps. You don’t have to come Fjord, you should eat. Big day of Wildmother stuff,” and she darts off again.

Fjord takes some of the roots on a thin skewer from his pack, eats them, and nods, “They’re very good.”

“I try my best,” Caduceus laughs a little. “I think the food supplies might’ve also been statues? It was just a remove curse to get them back to normal, nothing serious, I—I’m not going to waste any of my… but. Um. Yeah.”

“I spent most of my old life living off hardtack, so I would probably also just eat these if they were made of rocks.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

Fjord rolls his eyes, puts on a sweet face, “These are still better than hardtack. And they’d also be better than hardtack if they were still rocks.”

“Better.”

A squint—“You go swimming last night?”

“Not on purpose,” Caduceus sighs. “My sister’s—well. I started it.”

“Ah, so we’re finally going to see the mysterious prankster Caduceus that we’ve heard so little about—“

Calliope, to Caduceus’ terror, walks by at this moment and ruffles Caduceus hair, steals some of the roots right out of the pan and barely even winces at the heat. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Beau’s still working out,” Caduceus explains, in lieu of the yes he’s too embarrassed to say in front of either her or Fjord, “Running laps around the water.”

With her mouth full, she asks, “The monk?”

“Yeah.”

Calliope takes off.

“Are you encouraging this?” Fjord asks.

“I think that Beau and my sister could work well together. So, frankly, could Yasha and my sister, but, well—“

“So your sister was, like—she was romantically involved in things? Before—“

“She left a lot more than I did. And is a bit more confident than myself.”

“I’m sure you would’ve gotten plenty of attention from the… whoever you’re into. If you’re into anybody, of course. Y--you don’t have to be. Of course. But--”

“I… am interested in certain people, yes. Menfolk. Typically. Um.” He shakes his head. “Thank you."

Fjord smiles, does that little gesture with his thumbs up and his pointer fingers pointing at Caduceus, “That’s more mysterious Caduceus revealed. You just gave me personal information entirely free of plant metaphors.”

Caduceus rolls his eyes, but smiles. “Eat your food.”

**\+ spiced fruits**

“Caduceus.”

“Mmm.”

“Caduceus, wake up.”

“Mmmmmmmm.”

“Tell him the sea monsters are back.”

“I’d prefer not to be hit with a spell this—“

“They’re back?!”

And, as Fjord predicted: the already damaged wall is hit with a sphere of radiant energy. “Beau was bullshitting you. I made you food.”

“Beau, I told you not to make him work out this morning—“

“I didn’t. I take clerics’ orders seriously. He just woke up on time, and he was like, ‘We’re not working out? Okay, I’m gonna make Caduceus food.’ And I was like, ‘He’ll kill you if you use the kitchen,’ and he said, ‘No he won’t,” and then—“

“No, no, you died last night, don’t—I should be making food for _you_.”

“Well. Too bad. Eat up.”

Caduceus picks up a piece of melon, not breaking his sleepy glare of… disappointment, maybe?

“I maybe fucked up the spices.”

He puts it into his mouth, shakes his head and chews. Blinks a few times. Swallows.

Fjord smiles, suddenly very nervous about this whole thing.

“It’s good,” Caduceus says, “You did very well.”

And Fjord pumps his fist, ignores Beau’s cackle from afar.

“You’re not replacing me as chef.”

“Obviously not.”

“But you’re allowed to help, now. Congratulations, Captain.”

“I--you can’t promote me on my boat. I have to promote myself. So. I do. I am now also the official sous chef of the Ball-Eater.”

“An honorable position.”

“Truly.”

Caduceus eats another bite of fruit. Smiles wide, and sits up fully, pokes Fjord’s chest lightly. “You’re not doing me any more favors today. You need to rest.”

“No promises.”

“I don’t expect any.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Another slice of fruit. Another smile.

Things are maybe going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> love these boys. so much.
> 
> comment + kudo! please!


End file.
